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3515 

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Class r^ZSlS 
Copyright N° ! 9< «■/ 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 



Affinity 



BY 

MAURINE HATHAWAY 

(THE POETESS OF THE PINES) 

Author of 
"Embers," "Passion Lyrics," etc. 



NEW YORK 

BARSE & HOPKINS 

PUBLISHERS 



753^ 



Copyright, 1914 

BY 

BARSE & HOPKINS 



APR 23 1914 



©CI.A36980 6 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

An Apology 11 

Affinity 13 

Why? 16 

The Day Dream 18 

A Valentine 20 

At the Play 22 

If I Can Be with You 24 

The Sun and the Sea 25 

The Way of It 27 

The Nun's Secret 28 

If 'Tis Sinful to Love You . . . 33 

Recalled ... 35 

The Song of the Vampire .... 37 

Thy Love Has All Fled .... 39 

Forgetting Thee 40 

The Two 42 

I Wonder if You Ever Think of Me 43 

Lucine 44 

Who Counts the Cost 47 

A Woman's Way 49 

Warned 50 

Bereft 51 

Only a Week 53 



CONTENTS 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 

PAGE 

To Ella Wheeler Wilcox .... 57 

His Way . 58 

The Hearse 60 

Skulls 62 

The True Revenge 64 

The Dander Bugs .65 

Cursed and Crowned 68 

Amber 70 

Optimism 72 

Dawn 73 

Would It Be the Same? 74 

Gossip 76 

The Old Homestead 77 

Scotch Lullaby 79 

Doc Putnam's Band 80 

Two Pictures 84 

After Clouds — Sunshine 85 

Evening 86 

Back to Earth .87 

The Twa Cats 88 



AN APOLOGY 

SOMETIMES my poem-loving 
kJ soul, 

(When in a sanguine mood), 

On reading o'er the verse I write, 

Says to my heart " 'Tis good." 

" Here is a happy little thought 
In rythmic form expressed, 
Mayhap 'twill start vibrations 
In some sympathetic breast. 

Perhaps this one may comfort some 
Poor sorrow-sickened soul, 

Or that one aid ambitious ones 
To gain some longed-for goal." 

But ah, when I would worship 
At my Queen of Poets' shrine, 

And read her sweet creations 

Couched in language half divine, 

I glance back at my poor attempts 
And oh, they seem so plain, 

Expressed in lines intensely crude, 
Imperfect and inane. 



11 



AN APOLOGY 

And then I make a vow that I 

Will never write again, 
What has this old world done to me 

That I should cause it pain 

And anguish by imposing 

On its ears my humble song, 

Til trouble it no longer, 
But again ere very long 

Some little thing, perhaps no more 
^han bird or bee will start 

The passioned words a bubbling 
From the spring inside my heart. 

I can no more stop their -flowing 
Than could stay, a falling star, 

A voice within me whispers — 
" write " 
I write and here they are. 



12 



AFFINITY 

WHEN the thought of you 
comes 

In the broad light of day, 
Then I say to my soul 

" I must shut it away, 
'Tis a weak selfish thought 

And to think it is sin," 
So I close fast the door 

And it cannot come in. 
But at night when the care 

Of the day's work is done 
And the ghosts of the past 

Throng around one by one, 
Then I loose every bond 

And conventional chain, 
And live over those lost 
Golden hours again. 

As a bee overburdened with sweets 

Wings her flight, 
Homing back to the hive 

In her sated delight, 
So my free soul, imprisoned 

The weary day through, 
Soars away on a long 

Happy journey to you. 
You are waiting for me 

With your strong arms apart, 

13 



AFFINITY 

Once again you enfold me 

And heart throbs to heart. 

And you plead as of old 

With a low panting moan, 

As your fevered lips seek for 
And cling to my own. 

Your dear voice glads my ears 

As our arms intertwine, 
Your hot breath fans my cheek 

And your flesh thrills to mine. 
In the exquisite anguish 

Once more I am hurled 
On a sea of wild rapture 

Away from the world. 

Slowly rising and falling 

On billows of bliss, 
In the sweet soul-communion 

Where naught is amiss 
We drift on, till a maelstrom 

Of madd'ning delight 
Draws us into its vortex 

And whirls us from sight. 

As a calm settles over 

The turbulent sea, 
When the Storm-god has tired 

Of his ecstatic glee, 

H 



AFFINITY 

So a languor steals o'er me 

And clasped to your breast 

I am lulled to contentment 
And rapturous rest. 

Oh I would not return 

But forever dream on, 
For I waken to duty 

And pain with the dawn, 
And my dream is a sin, 

But I'm longing for you — 
Love, come back through the darkness 

And make it come true! 



15 



WHY? 

WHY didst Thou take him, Lord? 
He was not old 
But flushed with youth did so enjoy his 

life, 
Were there not aged ones who long to fold 
Their weary hands away from earth and 

strife? 
Whose tasks are over and whose eyes are 

dim, 
Why didst thou not call these instead of 

him? 

Why didst Thou take him, Lord? He 
was not tired 

But filled with hope he dreamed of valiant 
deeds, 

Were there not those whose hearts have 
long desired 

To rest them from the toil for simple 
needs, 

Who fain would sleep among the silent 
dead; 

Why didst Thou not take one of these in- 
stead? 

Why didst Thou take him, Lord? He 

was not weak, 
But strong to carry on Thy needed work, 

16 



WHY? 

Are there not many in Thy world who 

seek 
For ways whereby the slightest task to 

shirk? 
Whose worthless bodies are but in the way, 
Why didst Thou not call these, and let 

him stay? 

Why didst Thou take him, Lord? He 

was so kind 
And thoughtful of all things and brave 

and pure, 
Among the sinful millions Thou couldst 

find 
Someone less worthy living I am sure. 
His leaving caused my heart such bitter 

pain, 

Lord, why didst Thou not let him re- 

main? 

But ah, I must not question Thy behest, 
My loss so great has made me mad with 
grief, 

1 know Thou doeth all things for the best, 
Though from this pain, I fain would find 

relief. 
I bow beneath the rod, Thou Holy One, 
Forgive me, Lord, Thy will, not mine, be 

done. 

l 7 



THE DAY DREAM 

1AM dreaming, only dreaming, 
(Though 'tis noon- time of the 
day) 
And I see the sunlight gleaming 

On the blue hills far away, 
And the meadows all are teaming 
With the larks' and robins' lay. 

Oh, the poplar leaves are rustling 
In the clover scented breeze, 

And the air is all a-bustling 

With the whir of birds and bees, 

There's a rose-clad cottage nestling 
Deep among the whisp'ring trees. 

There's a happy mother flitting 
Here and there before the door, 

There's a snowy table fitting 
For a king to sit before, 

There's a blue-eyed baby sitting 
On the shining kitchen floor. 

There's a tall young husband nearing, 
(Oh, let nothing break the spell), 

His young face is bright and cheering 
(He has heard the dinner bell) 

Now with fond words he's endearing 
That sweet wife he loves so well. 

18 



THE DAY DREAM 

Now for baby he is making 
Pretty garlands of the vines, 

See him smile, such pains he's taking 
And his dear face, how it shines, 

(Oh, my heart is aching, aching, 
How it hungers, how it pines). 

I must wake, why am I crying, 

There are diamonds on my throat, 

There's my palace and low lying 
Is my costly motor boat, 

There's my aged husband sighing, 
See him stare at me and gloat. 

Nothing in the future daunts me, 
I have all I wish, and more, 

But the past it taunts, it taunts me, 
(That bright past I've given o'er) 

And that picture how it haunts me, 
How it haunts me ever more. 



19 



A VALENTINE 

9^1 ^IS many years, dear friend of 

A mine, 

Since young love cast his spell 
Upon you, and a valentine 

You sent your love to tell. 

Do you forget the filmy lace, 
The dainty flow' rets sweet, 

And tiny Cupid's airy grace 

Which made it quite complete? 

What more was needed to convey 

The story never old, 
That love like yours that happy day, 

With time could ne'er grow cold. 

Now as I lift the tattered lid 

And sadly in I peer, 
Into a flower's faded heart 

There falls a shining tear. 

A subtle odor floats from out 

The box so old and gray, 
And for a time I almost doubt 

That years have passed away, 



20 



A VALENTINE 

Since that fond token came to me, 
A message from your heart 

Straight to my own, how soon, ah me, 
Fate drifted us apart. 

Then you were called to other lands, 
New ties you formed and dear, 

While I, left sorrowing alone, 
Found consolation here. 

The love we knew that was so sweet, 

Is but a fragrant dream, 
That comes sometimes when mem'ry 
wakes 

To fancy's golden gleam. 

But still a thrill, I know not why, 
Pervades like rare old wine, 

Whene'er, 'mid relics of the past, 
I find your valentine. 



21 



AT THE PLAY 

THERE'S a man who is watching the 
play to-nigh t. 
In his breast is a smold'ring rage, 
For instead of the glamourous glare of 

light 
And the scene on the gilded stage, 
He sees only a cheerless and dreary room 
Where a fair girl waits in the lonely gloom, 
Who looks with her haunting eyes at him, 
Through their depths of pain and their 

teardrops dim. 

The one who is sitting beside him there 

Has the wealth of a dozen kings, 

There are diamonds rare on her throat and 

hair, 
And her hands are ablaze with rings. 
While the poor little maid he has led 

astray 
Has only her luminous eyes of gray, 
Her warm sweet lips and her trusting 

heart 
That he's won from her by his ruthless art. 

He watches the play in an absent way 

With a fixed and listless stare, 

And he tries to forget but that scene will 

stay 
And he cannot efface it there, 
22 



AT THE PLAY 

For he knows she will weep till her lips 

are dumb, 
When she waits and waits and he does not 

come, 
And somehow or other he is not quite 
Enjoying the play that is on tonight. 

Oh, I sit here tonight in this place of mirth 
And on every hand I see 
These rulers and masterful lords of Earth, 
In their might and immunity, 
And I wonder if deep in each secret heart 
Is a scene like this that he holds apart, 
That somewhere now for his bestial flame, 
There's a fair head bowed to the dust in 
shame. 



23 



IF I CAN BE WITH YOU 

I CARE not for the social whirl 
And splendor's gaudy hue, 
I would far rather sit beneath 
Some whisp'ring tree with you. 

I'll take the barriers with our love, 

And inconvenience, too, 
And scorn all other suitors, dear, 

If I can be with you. 

What though grim custom frown on 
me, 

It cannot make me blue, 
Nor censure yet cause me to fret 

If I can be with you. 

I'll pluck the flower though it grow 

Outside the narrow path, 
I'll drink its fragrance, sip its dew, 

E'en though the aftermath 

Be tares and thorns, for this I know 
My love, dear, is so true, 

That Hell itself were sweet to me 
If I were there with you. 



2 4 



THE SUN AND THE SEA 

THE Sun looked down from his lofty 
height, 
As he rose o'er the eastern hill, 
And beheld the Sea in her wond'rous 
might, 
And the Earth lying calm and still, 

And he said to himself, "Ah, the Earth is 
fair, 

And worthy and sweet, I hold, 
But tranquil and silent and though so rare, 

For me she is far too cold. 

"But there is the Sea with her throbbing 
strife, 

Her passionate surge and roll, 
It is she I will take to my heart to wife 

For she is the mate of my soul !" 

So he wed with the Sea at the dawn of day, 

In the opaline month of June, 
The mountains tall were the bridesmaids 

And the winds played the wedding tune. 



25 



THE SUN AND THE SEA 

Then the Sea so thrilled by the bold Sun's 
charms 

And stirred to her waves' white tips, 
Reached up to her lover her vap'rous arms 

And bared her full breast to his lips. 

And the fleecy clouds in their playground 
high, 

Afar in the blue above, 
That gambol and race cross the azure sky 

Are babes that were born of their love. 



26 



THE WAY OF IT 

TWO meet, they court awhile, they 
wed, 
They live a bitter, stormy life, 
A world with nod-approving head, 
Looks on and calls them — man and 
wife. 

Two meet, they woo, they mate at last, 
Their love unfettered does not die, 

A gaping world looks on aghast 
But wedding bells ring out on high. 



27 



THE NUN'S SECRET 

THE Sister of Mercy 
With swift, noiseless tread 
Was hovering about 

Near the sufferer's bed. 
Now counting his pulse beat, 
Now smoothing his hair, 
Now turning, some life-giving 
Drug to prepare. 

Though all futile it seemed, 

For the flickering light 
Of the life that remained 

Seemed too eager for flight. 
As they'd carried him in 

'Mid confusion she'd heard 
"Awful accident — street," 

But with never a word 

She had quietly led them 

To this snowy bed, 
Where he still lay unconscious 

And seemingly dead. 
Something strangely familiar 

There was in his face, 
Though 'twas marred by the lines 

Where the pain left its trace. 



28 



THE NUN'S SECRET 

And the touch of his hand 

Lying languid and still, 
Seemed to send o'er her being 

A strange nameless thrill. 
The brown hair as it waved 

O'er the broad, noble brow, 
Brought a vague recollection 

To haunt her, somehow. 

And the lines of his form 

'Neath the coverlet's snow, 
'Minded her of the love 

She'd renounced long ago. 
It had been a wild strife 

'Tween Religion and Love, 
But Religion had won 

As her prayers went above. 

She had learned that since 

Putting him out of her life, 
He had won fame and fortune, 

A home and a wife. 
Had a mansion, broad acres, 

Abundance of gold, 
And fair children had made life 

A blessing untold. 

Ah, he opened his eyes, 

Gracious God ! 'Twas the truth, 
'Twas the man she had worshiped 
In far away youth. 
29 



THE NUN'S SECRET 

Then he closed them again 

With a languorous smile, 

And her heart seemed to burst 

Through its prison the while. 

Though she clutched for her beads 

In an effort to pray, 
For a moment the years 

And the Church slipped away, 
And a vision arose 

To her tear-blinded eyes 
Of the home she once dreamed of 

In Love's Paradise. 

And she pictured herself 

Sitting happily there, 
While his tall manly form 

Towered back of her chair, 
And a baby whose ringlets 

Of gold she caressed, 
Lay with rosy wet lips 

'Gainst her warm yielding breast. 

There was no one about, 

She was solely alone 
Save for him whom she loved. 

With a low, sudden moan 

30 



THE NUN'S SECRET 

She leaned over him 

Brushing the clustering hair, 
Pressed her cheek against his, 

In her agony there, 

Then her lips sought the spot 

Where his cold hand had lain 
And then pressed the closed eyelids 

Again and again. 
Hot and wild with their fondness 

And panting apart 
They clung to his throat 

And the flesh o'er his heart, 

Back again to his mouth 

And his eyes and his hair, 
Murm'ring fond tender words 

Of impassioned despair. 
Hark! a footstep, — 'twas only 

The black-robed head-nurse, 
Come to see if the patient 

Were better or worse. 

But the nun turned to hide 

The wild light in her eyes, 

And her disheveled robe 

Brought no glance of surprise. 

31 



THE NUN'S SECRET 

As a faint amber glow 

Gave the tidings of dawn, 

His free soul took its flight 
And went journeying on. 

Came the beautiful wife 

Broken-hearted and brave, 
To convey her loved dead 

To the church and the grave. 
The sweet nun with set lips 

Watched them bear him away. 
Then stole silently down 

To the chapel — to pray. 



32 



IF 'TIS SINFUL TO LOVE YOU 

IF 'tis sinful to love you then why do I 
dream 
And dream all the lonely day through, 
And see in the dawn and the clouds and the 
stream, 
Only beautiful visions of you? 

If 'tis sinful to love you, then why are 

you dear, 

And why does my fond heart rejoice 

To see you and hear you and know you are 

near, 

And thrill at the sound of your voice? 

If 'tis sinful to love you then why do I 
sigh, 
For you only when you are away, 
And why am I lonely save when you are 
nigh, 
And why are you dearer each day? 

If 'tis sinful to love you then why did love 
steal 
Uninvited to dwell in my heart, 
And why should the pain of this love that 
I feel, 
Pierce my breast with its fierce poign- 
ant dart? 

33 



IF J TIS SINFUL TO LOVE YOU 

If 'tis sinful to love you, but this cannot 
be, 
Oh ! I will not believe it is true, 
God Himself sent this wonderful passion 
to me, 
And I know 'tis requited by you. 



34 



G 



RECALLED 

OME back to me, dear, do you know 
I am grieving 
And sick with regret that I sent you 
away? 
The world is a dull, dreary place since 
your leaving, 
The light has gone out and the shadows 
are gray. 

My duty declares I must yield every 
pleasure 
Your tender devotion has given to me, 
It bids me surrender each token and treas- 
ure 
That brings back a thought or a mem'ry 
of thee. 

It barters my love for the hope of a 
Heaven 
Where souls that are true through Eter- 
nity dwell, 
It vows if I hold you, to me will be given 
The scorn of the world and the torture 
of Hell. 

I want to do right but my lips part in 
longing 
With fond words of love that we only 
have known, 

35 



RECALLED 

I try to forget but though glad hosts are 
thronging, 
When you are away I'm alone, I'm 
alone. 

I pray to be strong but my soul is defying 

Society's laws, be they ever so true, 
I wish to be brave but my fond heart is 
crying 
And calling the long, dreary hours for 
you. 

I strive to be calm but my breast is aquiver 

With passionate longing and panting 

desire, 

My blood like a turbulent sea-seeking 

river 

Is flushing my veins with a volcanic fire. 

Tonight I am wild for your voice and 
your laughter, 
Your clasp and your kiss, oh, the future 
is black, 
I will see you again and the bitter here- 
after 
I'll leave to God's mercy and good- 
ness — Come back. 



36 



THE SONG OF THE VAMPIRE 

SOMEBODY who loves him is wait- 
ing at home, 
While I who have lured him away 
And led him to leave her and restlessly 
roam, 
Sit with him in the brilliant cafe, 
While the drink-maddened crowd, with 
their thoughts light as foam, 
Group around us in gaudy array. 

Oh I know how she's waiting in loneliness 
there, 
How she paces in fevered unrest 
As she harks for the step that she loves, on 
the stair, 
How her heart with its pain is oppressed, 
How her faith almost dies in her wond'ring 
despair, 
As the light of hope fades in her breast. 

But I silence my conscience that stings like 
a whip, 
(When I think of those nights long 

a g°)> 
And I lift the red wine to my sensuous lip, 

With a smile both alluring and slow. 



37 



THE SONG OF THE VAMPIRE 

I will quaff the rich draught to the very 
last sip, 
While my laughter is mellow and low. 

Once I waited like she, through the long 
throbbing night, 
For the sound of the footstep I loved, 
But the woman who held him cared naught 
for my plight, 
Nor with pity nor mercy was moved. 
Shall I cease my wild pleasure or check my 
delight 
Since that other so merciless proved? 

Hither, slave, bring the wine while the mu- 
sic goes on, 
Let it glisten and sparkle and foam, 
Here he stays at my side till the last star 
is gone, 
Time enough with the morn to atone, 
When all weary and spent he goes trailing 
at dawn 
To the woman who loves him — at home. 



38 



THY LOVE HAS ALL FLED 

THY love has all fled for the heart 
that didst tremble 
And flutter with passionate joy near to 
thine, 
Thy dear tender eyes that wood violets re- 
semble 
No more flash sweet longing and love 
into mine. 

Thou lovest another, ah, false as the siren 

That croons to the light o'er the billowy 

sea, 

Another now basks in that tender environ 

I once fondly dreamed belonged wholly 

to me. 

Those glamours enchanting, that glisten so 
brightly, 
The weaving of which is so easy for thee, 
The heart thou art breaking by thee held 
so lightly, 
While sport to thee, dearest, is anguish 
to me. 



39 



FORGETTING THEE 

AM I forgetting thee, dear heart, dear 
heart, 
The old mad anguish now has left me 

quite, 
And in life's tasks again I take some part, 
And thoughts of thee come only with the 

night, 
Where once they were each burdened 

hour with me, 
Am I forgetting thee, forgetting thee. 

The poignant pain that ached within my 

breast, 
At losing thee has mercifully flown, 
And life and hope and thoughtless youth's 

unrest, 
All fill the time save when I am alone, 
'Tis only then thy treasured face I see, 
x4m I forgetting thee, forgetting thee. 

Am I forgetting thee, dear heart, dear 

heart, 
Today came one my heart had held before 
I met thee dear, down in the busy mart, 
And to his words I listened as of yore. 
And smiles came to my lips most rare to 

see, 
Am I forgetting thee, forgetting thee. 

40 



FORGETTING THEE 

Am I forgetting thee, ah love of mine, 
I cannot think I am forgetting thee, 
That love we knew that was so near di- 
vine, 
I would not have its mem'ry steal from me. 
Come back and still my guide and comfort 

be, 
Lest I — Oh God — Am I forgetting thee. 



41 



THE TWO 

ONE knows the joy of a new found 
bliss, 
One knows the sting of a loss, 
One knows the cling of his fervent kiss, 
One bears the weight of a cross. 

One lies at night in her blest content, 
One hears the pine trees moan, 

One praises God that her love was sent, 
One weeps in the dark alone. 

One draws him close in her fond embrace 
And vows that they ne'er shall part, 

One sees in dreams his remembered face, 
And wars with the pain in her heart. 

One has the love that her heart demands 
And all that her soul could crave, 

One longs for the touch of his tender hands, 
And prays for the strength to be brave. 



42 



I WONDER IF YOU EVER THINK 
OF ME 

I WONDER if you ever think of me, 
In quiet moments when you are 
alone, 
Does not a memory sometimes come to thee 
Of happy days that you and I have 
known? 
Sweet days so full of peace and harmony 
That now alas, with bitter years have 
flown. 

I think of you dear one and in despair, 
I see each olden scene of fond delight, 

I kiss again your lips — your golden hair, 
And see your smile so tender and so 
bright 

Ah, those lost hours so precious and so rare, 
Pm longing, longing so for them tonight. 

My angry words and bitter I regret, 

I wish that they might all forgotten be, 
Can you not blot them out and quite forget, 
Rememb'ring but those dreams of ec- 
stasy? 
Perhaps 'twere best that we should part 
and yet, 
I would that you might sometimes think 
of me. 

43 



LUCINE 

LUCINE is dead, I know she is not 
here, 
Yet somehow, as I sit alone tonight, 
It seems her spirit must be ho v' ring near, 
In some strange form invisible to sight. 
Her wild caresses seem to thrill me now, 
Hot, clinging to my lips and eyes and 
brow. 

Last night I dreamed, and dreaming saw 

Lucine 
With all the old time love-light in her eyes, 
Describing some fair land where she had 

been 
Since entering the realm of Paradise. 
And as she talked, with pretty sylph-like 

grace, 
She veiled her hair upon my upturned 

face. 

I did not love Lucine — but told her so, 
Whene'er she asked in fond insistent way, 
She was so lavish in the long ago, 
A pretty toy, she pleased me for a day. 
What man but would have drained the 

proffered cup, 
Which I had prized, had she withheld a 

sup. 

44 



LUCINE 

She was so fair at first, that in delight, 
I dreamed of stealing from her cheeks the 

bloom, 
And kissing her red lips till they were 

white 
And languid as the moonlight on a tomb. 
My manly veins ran mad with molten fire, 
How could I know that I so soon should 

tire? 

And when at last I left her, how she cried 
And trembled when I said that last 

good-by, 
And then she sadly drooped and slowly 

died, 
One night when none were near to hear her 

sigh. 
'Twas better that she died, I well could 

miss 
Her tear-stained face that marred my hours 

of bliss. 

This haunting fear is nervousness, and still 
She seems to come so close to me and gloat, 
I quiver with a horrid sick'ning thrill, 
I almost feel her hands upon my throat, 



45 



LUCINE 

Those little hands that with their soft ca- 
ress 

Swept o'er me with such pleading tender- 
ness. 

Pshaw, poor Lucine within the grave lies 

deep, 
It is the rain I hear — not tears, the sigh 
That comes sometimes to rob me of my 

sleep 
Is but the eerie night wind moaning by. 
The dead come never back to earth, and yet 
I would to God that I could quite forget. 



4 6 



WHO COUNTS THE COST 

WHO counts the cost of Love, for Oh, 
It costs, it costs to love, 
In wand' ring o'er this weary earth, 

How oft I see it proved. 
So many are the heartaches 

That follow in Love's train, 
His pleasures ne'er can compensate 

For all his throes of pain, 
But where's the lover who would count the 

cost? 

The patriot who guards the flag 

Knows all the pain of love, 
For sake of country he would yield 

All things 'neath Heav'n above. 
All glowing hopes and aims and dreams 

Of life are given o'er, 
It costs to say farewell and sail 

To some wild foreign shore, 
But where's the patriot who counts the 
cost? 

The mother bending o'er her babe, 
She knows the price it costs 

To guard and guide the precious craft 
On life's bleak billows tossed. 

How patiently she toils away 
Till silver sheens her hair, 

47 



WHO COUNTS THE COST 

How oft the night winds hear her moans, 

Her sobs and tears and prayer, 
But where's the mother who would count 
the cost? 

The lass liat loves, how well she knows, 

The re in the trysting place, 
In raptures in her lover's arms, 

His kisses on her face, 
His low voice pleading in her ear, 

Her throbbing heart as well, 
She knows perhaps to pay the price 

Her soul is lost in Hell. 
Ah, if a lass would only count the cost. 



4 8 



A WOMAN'S WAY 

ONE gave her gifts that were costly, 
Bright jewels and treasures most 
rare, 
The other one wrote just a brief formal 
note 
And sent her a rose for her hair. 

The jewels she wears in their splendor, 
And smiles in her seeming delight, 

But the sweet faded rose and the short 
formal note, 
She kisses and weeps o'er at night. 



49 



WARNED 

YOU'RE unhappy, my fair little neigh- 
bor dear, 
All your sadness to me is plain, 
And my heart thrills for you with a name- 
less fear, 
Aye, in spite of the cheer you feign. 

I can see you are tired of the lonely life 
You are living. Is this not so? 

You are just a heart-hungry, neglected 
wife, 
And you're longing for love, I know. 

Oh, this is my prayer, little soul so brave, 
(And for strength you have need to 
pray), 

May no other bring you the love you crave, 
Or seek to entice you away. 

For as sure as the sky is bright blue above, 
As sure as the earth's below, 

As sure as a woman was born to love, 
So sure am I that you would go. 

And this is the motto I bid you read 
And read till your latest breath, 

And this is the warning I bid you heed, 
"The Wages of Sin Is Death." 

50 




BEREFT 

^FT when the mystic witchery 

Of midnight weaves a spell 
Around, and for a little while 

In Dreamland's realm I dwell, 
I seem to see you, dear one, 

As I saw you in the days 
When you and I were happy, 
Ere the parting of the ways. 

You smile upon me and my veins 

Again are swept with fire, 
You touch me gently and I burn 

With passionate desire. 
You draw me closely to you • 

As our two hearts madly beat, 
Our arms entwine in fondness, 

And our lips in rapture meet. 

The tender low persuasion 

Of your voice so near divine 
The wonderful invasion 

Of Love's secret inner shrine, 
The wild unreas'ning blindness 

Of our strange forbidden bliss, 
The meeting, ming'ling, melting 

Of our souls in one long kiss, 



51 



BEREFT 

I live it o'er in fancy- 
While the weird past brightly gleams, 

When sleep has oped the doorway 

To the mystic realm of dreams. 

I waken, God ! I listen, 

But I hear your voice no more, 
My lips purse hungrily but miss, 

The warm response of yore. 
My arms reach out to press you 

To my lonely, yearning heart, 
They find you not, and empty fall 

In agony apart. 

I call to you 'mid broken sobs 

"Oh, love come back tome." 
A dreary echo answers back 

In hollow mockery. 
Sometimes I wonder if you hear 

Or if you do not know 
That I am calling for you, dear, 

And longing for you so. 

But no, e'en though Death sealed your eyes 

And lips in silence dumb, 
If you could know I need you so, 

You would awake and come. 



52 



ONLY A WEEK 

I HAVE only a week to wait, thought 
she, 
(A maiden white as a dove), 
Only one short week until I will be 
The bride of the man I love. 

And she trembled to think of that first 
wife-kiss 
She would press to his eager lips, 
And her soul was thrilled by a surge of 
bliss, 
That pulsed to her finger tips. 

I have only a week to wait, thought he, 
And he gloated in keen delight, 

Until she in her innocent purity 
Is mine on that nuptial night. 

And he groaned as he thought of his sinful 
past, 
' Of the lep'rous thing he had been, 
Of the revels and orgies thank God, at 
last 
He was leaving the path of sin. 



53 



ONLY A WEEK 

Soon the week passed by and the bells rang 
out, 
Aclang in their molten glee, 
And the maiden white, ere the morning 
light 
Was as tainted and stained as he. 



$4 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 



TO ELLA WHEELER WILCOX 

THY songs are like a fountain 
With a bubbling, sparkling brink, 
Where tired, thirsty travelers 

May pause awhile and drink. 
And none have been so sinful 

Or so much of joy have quaffed, 
But gain a world of comfort 

From its soothing, limpid draught. 

Oh, write nor deem the smallest thought 

From thy dear pen unfurled, 
But cheers a million hearts among 

Thy readers of the world. 
I tremble when I think of what 

Mine own life might have been, 
Had I not been inspired by thoughts 

Of thine — my Poet-Queen. 



57 



HIS WAY 

GOD wished me to be strong and so He 
sent 
A madd'ning grief that I must bear alone, 
And took away my joy and my content, 
And left me weeping prostrate at His 

throne. 
He hushed my happy laughter and my 

song, 
That I might learn "To suffer and grow 

strong." 

God meant me to be nobly broad, and lo, 
He placed Temptation's vintage in my 

way, 
And bade me quaff the luscious draught 

and know 
The bitter price the sinful heart must pay, 
That I might love the erring one, nor 

frown 
But help her up and on, instead of down. 

God meant that I should strive and so in- 
stead 

Of flow'ry ways, He led through paths 
that pained 

My weary feet, and held the prize ahead 

That I might know its value when attained. 



58 



HIS WAY 

And, meeting some lone wand'rer in the 

night, 
I might be wise to guide her steps aright. 

With all my gifts I ne'er had reached the 

goal, 
For which I was predestined in this world, 
Had I not known that travail of the soul, 
In which for weary years my life was 

hurled. 
And Oh, I thank Him so, that I can see 
His purpose in the pain He sent to me. 



59 



THE HEARSE 

THE hearse was bearing its silent 
"fare, 55 
To a peaceful couch in the churchyard 

there, 
And this thought came in the midst of 

mirth, 
Oh there, oh there, is the end of Earth. 
Whatever may follow of good or ill, 
Is a mystery silent and sealed until 
We shall take our ride with a white set 

face, 
Away to our last long resting place. 

And I thought, though my life has but 

reached high noon, 
The shadows of evening will lengthen soon, 
For time is so fleet and the years will pass, 
Then I 5 11 be the one in that coach of glass. 
So what does it profit, this strange life- 
game, 
This greed for lucre, this thirst for fame? 
So soon it is over, so quickly passed, 
And lo, I must take that sad ride at last. 

So I'll check the word that might wound 

and sting, 
That flies from my lips like a winged 

thing, 

60 



THE HEARSE 

I will shun temptation and crush desire, 
When my young blood burns like a liquid 

fire. , 
To the erring one I will lend a hand 
And snatch her up like a burning brand. 
I will give my aid to the needy poor, 
And help some brother his pain endure. 

I will mind the little things day by day, 
And with rays of sunlight I'll strew the 

way, 
All worry and doubting and fear shall 

cease, 
And I'll drift away to the end in peace. 

These are the thoughts that occur to me, 
When the funeral train on its way I see, 
And the hearse goes by with a slow sad 

pace, 
Bearing some one to his resting place. 



61 



SKULLS 

SOMETIMES when I am mingling 
with a crowd 
That chatters like a host of noisy gulls, 
A thought will come that makes me groan 
aloud, 
These faces are but masks of ghastly 
skulls 

That happy face there passing to my right, 
With sparkling eyes and hair a golden 
mesh 
Doth hide a skull, a loathsome, gruesome 
sight, 
Were it divested of its lovely flesh. 

That cripple with the pain-contorted face, 

Robbed of his mask of flesh would look 

as well 

As that fair babe who laughs with childish 

grace, 

Or as the haughty beauty, truth to tell. 

That purse-proud dame, with condescend- 
ing smile 
Who scintillates with rare and precious 
stones, 
Behind that mask that glows and beams 
the while 
Is just a mass of shining slimy bones. 
62 



SKULLS 

The dainty lady with the costly gown, 
The paper boy with importuning throat, 

The mendicant and advertising clown, 
All, all are skulls beneath that fleshly 
coat. 

Oh, wealthy dame, you need not be so 
proud, 
Oh, ugly cripple, why are you op- 
pressed? 
A little while and from thy burial shroud, 
They could not tell thy skull from all 
the rest. 

Oh, silly beauty, it is all in vain 
You flaunt your loveliness at sisters plain, 
Thy haughty face is but the outer sheath 
That hides a ghastly grinning skull be- 
neath. 



63 



THE TRUE REVENGE 

ONE vengeance only I would deign to 
take, 
Were my arch enemy within my power, 
Though he had caused my heart to bleed 
and break, 
Far back in some dim sorrow-burdened 
hour. 

Yea, I would stand afar upon a height, 
Which selfish, narrow souls can ne'er at- 
tain, 
Reached only by lone striving in the night, 
And by long years of doubting, fear and 
pain. 

Ah, then I'd turn to him my pitying gaze, 
(Though he stood sneering up at me the 
while), 
And with my eyes dim-veiled by pard'ning 
haze, 
I'd look down from my lofty place and 
— smile. 



6 4 



THE DANDER BUGS 



M 



IZ SIMPSON knows a secret, 



say! 



She lives right here in town, 
An' if your hair is fallin' out 

Ye better jes' go down. 
Fer if ye' re keerless with your hair, 

An' kinder let it go, 
The dander bugs '11 start right in 

Ter grow an' grow an' grow. 

An' after while they git so big 

'At by an' by some day, 
They'll come when ye ain't noticin' 

An' carry ye away. 
Miz Simpson she don't never use 

No common patent drugs 
But she hes got a secret 

Thet'll kill the dander bugs. 

Wy, oncet ther wuz a woman 

An' her hair beginned ter fall, 
But she never paid no 'tention 

Ter the dander bugs at all, 
An' so they kep' a growin' 

An' soon they got so thick, 
They carried her right off one day, 

An' thowed her in the crick. 

65 



THE DANDER BUGS 

My maw she said 'at oncet her hair 

Wus jes' that scant an' thin, 
It warn't longer 'n down ter there 

An' hardly reached her chin. 
She went ter see Miz Simpson 

Ter git a little ease, 
An' now her hair hes growed so long 

It's mostly ter her knees. 

My paw he never hed no hair 

Fer years an' years I guess, 
It used ter worry maw so bad 

It kep' her in distress. 
She took him ter Miz Simpson 

When he felt fine one day, 
He only got one treatment 

But the way his hair growed, Say ! 

An' maw said oncet ther wus a girl 

— Fergit what she wus called — 
But all her hair wus comin' out 

An' she wus nearly bald. 
She couldn't ketch no feller, 

She most wished she wus dead, 
Till she went ter see Miz Simpson, 

Now ye ought ter see her head. 



66 



THE DANDER BUGS 

Fer her hair jes' started growin' 

An' I guess the folks can't scoff, 
Fer it got so long an' purty 

'At she caught a beau right off. 
An' the reason she'd been missin' 

All the squeezes an' the hugs 
An' the spoonin' an' the kissin', 

Wus account the dander bugs. 

So if your hair is fallin' 

An they's nothin' left ter try, 
An' your head jes keeps a itchin' 

Till ye'd ruther live than die, 
Wy go ter see Miz Simpson, 

An' thow away your drugs; 
She'll make ye fine an' happy, 

Fer she'll kill the dander bugs. 



6 7 



CURSED AND CROWNED 

I SOMETIMES feel so sad and so 
alone, 
Somehow, it seems that I do not belong 
To yonder laughter-loving happy throng, 
But on some foreign sphere or distant zone. 
My friends are all strange beings to my 

mind 
For I have naught in common with my 
kind. 

Their idle chat and gossip never brings 
Joy to my heart so filled with other things. 
No sympathy have I with petty care, 
"How shall we entertain, what shall we 

wear 
To ball or tea," my brain and soul are 

filled 
With dreams of songs that I shall sing or 

thrilled 
With some sweet couplet, happy simile 
Or metaphor that has occurred to me. 

Oh, if my humble song shall never rise 
To that blest height in God's supernal 
skies, 



68 



CURSED AND CROWNED 

My fate must be like some poor wounded 

bird, 
Who, longing so, but lacking power to fly, 
Can only droop its crippled wings and die, 
I have no place among the plodding herd. 



6 9 



AMBER 

SHE is just ten years old, and her hair's 
burnished gold, 
And she bothers me I must confess, 
When she comes to my desk where I'm 
bent o'er my task, 
And says "Please make my dollie a 
dress." 

"Oh, now darling," I say, "won't you 
please run away? 
Mamma's busy and hurrying so, 
And my head's in a whirl, there's a dear 
little girl, 
I must finish this song, you know." 

So she kisses my lips and she gloomily trips 
Out of doors and is soon at play, 

But down deep in my heart is the agonized 
dart 
Of a pain that I can't drive away. 

For I think with a cry if my baby should 
die, 
And her cold little form I should see, 
How I'd weep o'er the time when for one 
simple rhyme 
I had sent her away from me. 



7° 



AMBER 

And though she should live, she must grow 
up and give 
The love of her heart to another, 
Though the thought is so gray, 'tis the sad 
old earth's way, 
And who knows that truth like a mother. 

So I go to the door and I call her once more 
And I say "Get a needle and thread; 

We will not stop to rest till your dollie is 
dressed 
From her feet to the top of her head. 

She shall have a new hood and a coat red 
as blood, 
And a pretty new bow for her hair, 
She shall have a new ruff and a little fur 
muff 
And a pair of new booties to wear." 

Then when prayers are all said and I've 
tucked her in bed, 
And have kissed her and put out the 
light, 
And my heart from its pain has grown 
lighter again, 
I go back to my desk and write. 



71 



OPTIMISM 

ONE happy smile can make a day 
Of life the brightest part, 
One pleasant word can turn the gray 
To gold for some sad heart. 

One cheerful song may light the road 

For weary burdened feet, 
One loving glance may lift the load 

Of failure and defeat. 

A glance, a word, a song, a smile, 
Such little things they seem, 

Yet scattered here and there the while, 
They brighten all life's dream. 



72 



DAWN 

OPAL and amber and gray- 
Stealing up over the eastern hills 
While under my window a robin trills 
To herald the new born day. 



73 



WOULD IT BE THE SAME? 

AS I was walking through the street to- 
day, 
With happy heart so full of youth and 
life, 
Lo, suddenly a white hearse barred my 
way, 
Bearing some child away from care and 
strife. 

A slender little coffin through the glass 
All decked with flowers I could plainly 
see, 
And as I stood, through tears to watch it 
pass, 
This thought came swift and suddenly 
to me. 

That little form o'er which some mother 
weeps 

Can never know life's sorrow or its pain, 
Unmindful of it all he calmly sleeps, 

Nor can he suffer more, or die again. 

Perhaps God looked ahead into his life 
And saw more trials than his strength 
could bear, 



74 



WOULD IT BE THE SAME? 

And so He called him home away from 
strife, 
To dwell with Him where all is calm 
and fair. 

Perhaps there lurked some heinous crime 
and grave, 
Which, had he lived, his feeble hands 
had done, 
And so God took that mother's babe and 
gave 
To her this pain, to spare a greater one. 

And yet I wonder would the same thought 
come, 
And would I praise my Blessed Lord Di- 
vine, 
If I stood in Death's awful presence, dumb, 
Were I that mother and that dead child 
mine. 



75 



GOSSIP 

THOU cruel fiend, thy barbed serpent 
tongue, 
More sorrow from the human heart has 
wrung 

Than Death or War or Poverty or Gold, 
Or all the means of torture, used of old. 

More misery can trace its source to Thee 
Than aught this side of all Eternity. 

More broken hearts at Thy door have been 

lain, 
Than wars of all the ages could have slain. 

Thy venom' d thrust too often is the goad 
That speeds a human soul the downward 
road. 

I think God banished Satan from the sky, 
Because he slandered some fair soul on 
high. 



76 



THE OLD HOMESTEAD 

FAR away in dear Nebraska, 
Is a quiet homestead still, 
Near a grove of sighing elders, 

Nestled deep among the hills. 
The old house stands there just the 
same 
As, when a little child, 
I used to visit it and play, 
My fancy running wild. 

The quaint old-fashioned windows, 

The overhanging eaves, 
The trees nearby that whisper 

To the wind among the leaves, 
I love them all for there I spent 

The golden hours of life, 
Nor dreamed of sorrow waiting 

In a world of care and strife. 

Still in the meadow, buttercups 

And yellow daisies grow, 
The same as when I gathered them 

So long, so long ago. 
The tiny brook below the hill 

Still mourns its little song, 
A sadder one than when I played 

Its flowered banks along. 



77 



THE OLD HOMESTEAD 

And other children listen now 

To catch its tones so sweet, 
Its waters lave as tenderly 

Some other childish feet. 
And I fancy in its f rettling 

Is a farewell minor lay 
To all those rosy dreams of life 

I dreamed in childhood's day. 

But now a more pretentious house 

The old one stands beside, 
Between it and the road close by 

As if it fain would hide 
That humble one from all the world, 

Still that gray cot to me, 
Is dearer far than mansions 

Made of browns tone, e'er could be. 

I love Thee, childhood's shelter, 

Let Thee wither and decay, 
Thy memory will remain with me 

Till life's departing day. 
They try to hide with grandeur 

Thy dear old rafters, yet 
I wear thy picture in my heart 

And ne'er will I forget. 



78 



SCOTCH LULLABY 

SLEEP, my bairnie, on my bosom, 
A' the happy day is done, 
Ilka bird and ilka blossom 
Went to rest at set o' sun. 

Ne'er a flow'r its petals closes 
Half sae luvely as thou art, 

Ne'er a bonnie bird reposes 

Half sae dear to my fond heart. 

God, who watches o'er the flowers 
And the birds o'er land an' sea, 

Keeps his guard through night's lang 
hours 
Oh, my precious bairn o'er thee. 

Sleep, my bairnie, on my bosom, 
A' the happy day is done, 

Ilka bird and ilka blossom 
Went to rest at set o' sun. 



79 



DOC PUTNAM'S BAND 

I WENT daown to the Fargo Fair, 
Took Sairy an' the rest, 
I 'lowed she'd worked all summer, 

An' done her very best 
Ter help along, an' never said 
She'd done more'n her share, 
Er onct complained and so I 'lowed 
I'd take her ter the Fair. 

We hitched up in the mornin' 

'Fore sun up, on my word, 
Says I, "We'll git there early," 

An' you can bet we heard 
'Bout ever thing wuth hearin' — 

I tell ye it was grand, 
But say, the best thing at the Fair 

Was Doctor Putnam's band. 

I reckon I've heerd music 

On piannys, an' I've laffed 
My self 'bout sick a listenin' ter 

Si Jenkins' phoney-graft. 
I've even went ter old St. Paul 

Ter Oprys thet wus grand, 
But say, they warn't in it 

With Doctor Putnam's band. 



80 



DOC PUTNAM'S BAND 



*& 



They was an air ship, blamedest thin^ 

Yes, sir, 'twas at the Fair, 
Jes' looked like some big bloomin' bird 

A flyin' throo the air. 
I reckon they'll soon auto 'round 

On air as well as land, 
But law, that's no attraction 

'Longside o' Putnam's band. 

They hed a little city, too, 

'Y Jolly thet was cute, 
Jes' like a reg'lar grown up taown 

With a whole coal mine to boot. 
An' there was snakes an' 'lectric shows 

An' things on every hand, 
But most I keered fur of them all 

Was Doctor Putnam's band. 

An' Sairy, wy, I never see 

The like o' Sairy now, 
She seemed so quiet like, I thought 

She didn't keer somehow 
Fer music much, but she jes' got 

The kids up by a stand, 
An' stood the hull endurin' time 

A listenin' to the band. 



81 



DOC PUTNAM'S BAND 

They was an Ocean Wave an' swing 

An' big wheel thet went 'round, 
"A Fairies' Wheel" they call it, 

I think, but I'll be bound, 
I couldn't git them kids a step 

Not after all they'd planned, 
They 'lowed they'd give up all the rest 

Ter hear Doc Putnam's band. 

The races they was mighty good, 

I hed a caow or two 
Thet took a prize, I knew they would 

Fer our caows allers do, 
An' Sairy took first on a quilt, 

While I drew one fer sand, 
But gosh, I clean fergot 'em all 

A hearin' Putnam's band. 

They was a "Hoochy Koochy" show 

From some big furreign taown, 
With wild-eyed men an' half-dressed 
gals 

A kiyien' araound. 
They mebbe like that music 

Back in that furreign land, 
I wonder what they'd think, if they 

Could hear Doc Putnam's band? 



82 



DOC PUTNAM'S BAND 

I reckon Doc 'ud think that I 

Don't know baout music much, 
He'd think I was a hayseed 

Er old mossback er such, 
But I don't keer what he 'ud think 

I'd like ter shake his hand, 
And say ter him, "Say, Doc, you've gat 

A right nice little band." 



83 



TWO PICTURES 

A GARDEN fair, where blushing roses 
grow, 
A silvered evening in the month of June, 
A hidden fountain somewhere tink'ling 

low, 
High overhead a smiling summer moon, 
And all forgetful that the hour is late, 
Two plighted lovers dreaming at the gate. 

The white snow lying thick on steep and 

vale, 
A nest'ling church with slender, to tt' ring 

spire, 
The red sun sinking o'er the western hill. 
In molten splendor like an orb of fire. 
A graveyard where a lonely grave-stone 

lifts 
Its gaunt height here and there among the 

drifts. 



8 4 



AFTER CLOUDS— SUNSHINE 

IF all of life were happiness 
Nor tempered with a care, 
We could not prize our blessings 
When all is glad and fair, 

For as the Earth seems lovely 
And brighter after rain, 

So do our lives seem brighter 
When we have suffered pain. 

Dark clouds will rise and cover 
The bluest summer sky, 

But, ah, how fair the world seems 
When they have drifted by. 

For God it was Who planned it, 
He knows our joys, our fears, 

He sends the rain and sunshine, 
He sends our smiles and tears. 

And though the dark clouds hover, 
If we are brave the while, 

The storm will soon pass over, 
Then — sunshine and the smile. 



85 



EVENING 

DUSK and hush and. the drowsy call 
Of a far off whip-poor-will, 
Darkness deepening over all, 
And a star above the hill. 

Frogs that sing in a monotone, 
A thread-like moon that shines, 

An owl that grieves with a lonesome 
moan 
And a sob among the pines. 



86 



BACK TO EARTH 

WE had talked of Love and Poetry, 
Of Music and of Art, 
Of Ethics and ^Esthetics 

And that subject old — the Heart. 

I had found him so congenial 
That Pd just begun to feel, 

In him at last was realized 
A long-looked-f or ideal. 

I believe I almost loved him, 
(His blue eyes and raven hair) 

And I felt that I could trust him 
If my life were in his care. 

But my woman's heart was longing 
For assurance, don't you see, 

So I asked him his idea 

Of what Happiness might be. 

Oh, I hung upon his answer 

And imagine my dismay, 
When I heard his dear lips murmur 

"Three good hearty squares a day." 



87 



THE TWA CATS 

9^| A WAS in Chicago's braid domains, 
A That queen o' a' the western 
plains, — 
Upon a dark suburban street, 
Twa cats a simmer night did meet. 

The night was fair wi' luvely June, 
A church spire halved the braw fu' moon, 
Auld Michigan's waters lapped and 

lashed 
As if wi' warldly worries fash't, 
While far awa the lights an' din 
Gave proof the Deil was out for sin. 

The first cat was nae common cat, 
Ane glance at her would tell ye that. 
Her silken hair an' soulfu' eyes 
Had won her mony a temptin' prize. 
Where'er she went or here or there, 
At feline show or tea or fair, 
She was the pet o' ilka woman, 
Amaist as if she had been human. 
She towered fu' twa feet in height, 
Her hair was yellow, lang an' bright, 
An' round her gracefu' neck there hung 
A chain f rae which a diamond swung. 
Her mistress (grand an' haughty dame) 
Had ca'd her some high soundin' name 

88 



THE TWA CATS 

Like Buffy Ruffles, far too lang 
To clink or rhyme weel i' my sang, 
Sae half for rhyme an' half for sport, 
I'se ca' her Buff an 5 mak it short. 
Now though sae far above them, she 
Scorned not the cats o' low degree, 
An' ane she luved the best of a' 
Hailed frae a lab'rer's cottage sma. 
This poor cat's name was simply, Blue, 
A maltese puss wi' plaintive mew, 
Wha prowled abraid for mice, at night, 
Or slept or squintet i' the light. 
Upon her neck she scorned to wear 
A thing except her thick blue hair, 
But though a sonsie quiet cat 
She luved Puss Buff, for a' o' that. 

The night I speak of they'd been out 
To snowk for mice, the streets about, 
Till baith fatigued, an' short o' breath, 
They sat them down the trees beneath, 
Then confidential, face to face, 
This talk I will relate took place. 

BUFF. 

"I trust ye will na be offended, 
For nae offense to ye's intended, 
But, trouth, my brain is in a mist, 

8 9 



THE TWA CATS 

As how poor cats like ye exist. 
I've watched ye as ye snooved awa' 
To that wee cot sae gray an' sma', 
An' wi' the problem I hae striven, 
Of how ye manage to keep livin'. 
Now as for me I'm sae weel fed, 
I sleep upon a silken bed, 
My maid is here to stroke my hair. 
An' fix my ribbons fine wi' care, 
My mistress takes me oot for walks, 
She pets an' kisses me an' talks, 
Until I'm sure wi' out attention, 
Life wad be quite too sad to mention. 
Come tell me truly, Pussie Blue, 
What felines in your station do." 

BLUE. 

"Weel, weel, to think that I should be 

A cause for fash is news to me. 

Ye ken the house I ca' my hame, 

My mistress is a happy dame, 

Wha wi' her house-hauld care is thrang 

An' sings an' toils the whole day lang. 

She sweeps an' dusts an' scrubs an' 

cleans, 
An' what wi' master an' the weans 
To cook an' wash for, darn an' mend, 
Ye ken her task ne'er sees an end. 

90 



THE TWA CATS 

An' seldom she finds time to spare 
To speak to me or stroke my hair, 
An' as for hugs an' pets an' kisses, 
I'm strange to a' sic joy as this is. 
I'm left alone to gae to sleep 
Upon the hearthrug or to creep 
Nights when it's cold into the nest 
Where weanies tak their nightly rest. 
But though sae poor, I am a cat, 
Wha luves to live, for a' o' that. 
Now, Buff, I've seen sic brilliant lights 
Wi' in ye' re mansion late at nights, 
I hae been wond'rin what 'tis for, 
These some twa three weeks now or 

more. 
An' since we're tellin' facts sae plain, 
I'se ask ye kindly to explain." 

BUFF. 

"Ah, ken ye na what's brewin' there, 
Wi' in our mansion braid an' fair? 
Weel lean a wee bit closer me, 
An' I will whisper it. Ye see 
The women a' are takin' note 
An' plottin' how to get to vote. 
It seems the men hae been abusin' 
An' a' their pleas hae been refusin' 



91 



THE TWA CATS 

So now they're meetin' round thegither 
To plot an' ponder as to whether 
They canna somehow get the right 
To cheat the men an' vent their spite. 

"A deal o' noise an' din they make 
When singin' 'Wake, O woman, wake,' 
They march around wi' frenzied chant 
In manner unco militant. 
They a' sit down an' listen then, 
While ane stands up an' scores the men. 
In truth, Puss Blue, 'twould gar ye greet 
To hear how awfu' men mistreat 
Their wives an' sisters, mithers, too, 
'Tis past belief, the things they do. 

"At midnight comes a dainty lunch, 
The women chat an' smirk an' munch, 
But never ance yet hae I seen 
Amang them what ye ca' a 'wean.' 
Still they are not to blame, ye see, 
They maun take care o' cats like me. 
But Blue, I think, between us two, 
When they're thegither thus they do 
A sight more talk o' gowns an' coats 
An' o' their neebors than o' votes. 
Weel now since I've explained the lights, 
Come, how do your folks spend the 
nights?" 

92 



THE TWA CATS 



BLUE. 



"When supper's done an' hame is bright, 
Wi' ingle's glow an' cheerfu' light, 
The weans the dishes wash an' wipe, 
While master reads or smokes his pipe. 
My mistress sews an' mends the socks 
Or patches countless duddie frocks, 
While back an' forth the cradle flies 
Lest wee sma weanie wakes an' cries. 

"Then lessons for the next schoolday 
Are quickly learned an' put away, 
At nine o'clock the prayers are said, 
An' weanies then are tucked in bed. 
Whiles neebor drops in for an hour, 
To talk o' politics an' power, 
An' mistress listens wi' a smile, 
An' gies opinion wise the while, 
But on my word, I'se wad a groat, 
She would na care a snap to vote. 
Luve rules her heart an' luve's enough, 
Hae ye a master, too, Puss Buff?" 

BUFF. 

"Weel, now, by a' that's gude I swear 
For ance, Miss Blue, ye hae me there. 
For to be truthfu' to your quiz, 
I canna tell wha master is. 

93 



THE TWA CATS 

There's ane sma' man wi' meikle specs 
Wha writes an' signs my mistress' 

checks, 
His face is aye sae sad an' worn, 
He looks sae weary an' forlorn, 
Sometimes my heart is wae for fear, 
He canna live throughout the year. 

"An' there is ane wha comes at night 
When poor auld Speckie's out o' sight, 
He's tall an' braw wi' manner grand, 
He haulds an' kisses mistress' hand, 
Sae ye can see as weel's mysel 
Wha master is, I canna tell." 

But by this time the moon had set, 
The grass wi' sparklin' dew was wet, 
An early bird f rae far awa, 
Was whimperin' his dreamy ca' 
While came frae some street far apart, 
The tinkle o' a milkman's cart. 
Sae by a short path through the park 
The cats ran hameward i' the dark. 



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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

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